This is the only letter I have written from the Holy Land. Pardon me
if it is short. Everything has been deserted here, and I have had but
few sensations. How I came here was this - I went to Suez with Mr. Warner.
I found travelling with the party so pleasant that when it was suggested
that I should come on to Jerusalem, I gladly joined them, tho' it was
not in my program. - But to be within two days of Jerusalem and not visit
it, and the Dead Sea, seemed an omission I would always regret, and then
I had come to like Mr. & Mrs Warner so well that the prospect of travelling
anywhere with them was a pleasure not easily put aside - Just now I was
interrupted by a German engineer coming into my room, (with some maps
- he had heard that I was interested in railroads and he wanted to show
me the plan for a road from here to the Holy City. - I examined his plans,
and gave him what encouragement I could, and then he left - he made a
speech that at first I did not understand so I made him speak slowly -
when I found it to be - "The engineer who shall build a railway into
the City of Jerusalem, will certainly have a special place made for him
in Heaven" -. I have no objections to his view of the reward due
to engineering work, but have yet to see why a road to Jerusalem should
secure more celestial favor than one to Pueblo. It is twenty days since
I went up to Jerusalem, through this place. Most of this time I spent
with Mr. & Mrs. Warner. Visiting the celebrated places; the Jourdan
[sic], the Dead Sea, the regional churches and ceremonies. They went a
week ago to Damascus. I did not care specially for any more of the mysterious
East, and made my plans for Alexandria and Italy. In an hour I shall sail
in the Austrian Steamer for Port Said. Then to Alexandria, then Naples
which I shall probably reach in seven or eight days. The Warners go via
the islands and Constantinople to Venice which Mr. Warner expects to reach
by June 1st and where they will remain several weeks, perhaps thro' much
of the summer. He has written some letters to the N.Y. Times which if
you happen to get those may interest you. The Miss Stearnes I found in
Jerusalem - They were staying at the Latin Convent, had made the overland
Journey from Damascus, and a week ago they sailed from this port for Italy,
which they expect to reach on their way to Paris. Yesterday I spent in
examining the first great effort in the recent time to regenerate Palestine
in the practical plan, by using example instead of precept. Mr. Bergheim
of Jerusalem has bought 5000 acres of land on the Plains of Nicesore,
a-n-d- including an Arab Village. He has nearly all of it planted with
wheat Barley, [Dource?] and sesame. Gradually he is bringing some system
into the careless Arab methods of culture. He has no especial idea to
carry out, except to make his farm profitable, and he therefore depends
upon his own exertions for success. He has introduced machinery, and fertilizers,
and h-i-s- the substantial reward he has gained makes it probable that
many other wealthy men will follow his example. Nearly all the religious
communities that have been founded here have proven failures.

I write you now from the midst of the great Orange Orchards of Joffa,
Hundreds of acres in every direction are covered with trees loaded with
fruit, and white with flowers. As I approached them yesterday the air
was heavy with perfume a mile before I reached the shady borders of the
plain. The wind carried the sweet fragrance across the fields of crimson
popies [sic] and snowy daisies. There are more flowers here now than ever
in Colorado. I have seen acres crimson with popies near other acres black
with phlox and surrounded by hundreds of acres as white as tho' three
inches of snow rested where only daises were growing. My trunk has gone
to the boat, and I shall follow in a few minutes. Your picture lies on
the table near me to be packed with my books in my bag - If you were here
Dear friend, we would not go away for days but would wander among the
flowers and brush, the sweet fields and the sky larks.

Always yours
Robt H. Lamborn

Rome, May 9th, 1875

My dear Helen, I know I am a very bad correspondent, and don't tell what
I ought, and sometimes tell what I oughtn't, but for you, I am willing
and glad to try to do. better tho' its such a harrowing thing to tear
out a mental tuber by the roots. I wrote you from Joffa - from the sweet
orange orchards. Thence I came to Alexandria, where I found the French
boat just starting for Naples - full - I told the captain I was going
nevertheless, the officers had me a bed made in the cabin, and really
came to Naples more comfortable than most of the other passengers. On
the boat were many pleasant people, but particularly the Babbitts, - for
whom I had letters from Gen.l Schuck of London. Mrs. Babbitt was Mrs.
Hoffin - ne' Jenkins - one of the bluebloods of Rhode Island. - She had
met you I think at or with Mr. Beecher. With Mrs. Babbitt not sick I found
it an interesting voyage. The strangest thing and most memorable of views
on the way was Stromboli - A great island just north of Sicily, t-h-a-t-
under the shadow of which we passed, w-h-i-c-h- It's simply a volcanic
cone rising out of the sea, cultivated to the very edge of the lava, and
green with vineyards. The smoke hung in white clouds on the edge of the
crater, the sky was deep blue overhead, the sea deep blue beneath, and
the t-h-e- waves broke in a white fringe around the rocky coast, beyond
all, the sun sat in a glory of gold.

At Naples the winter was gone, b-u-t- summer not yet come. How charming
it all was - like a dream in the cool morning, when you sleep in a garden
among singing birds - How I wished for you in Capri at the blue grotto.
The little boat shot in an instant from broad day into the mysterious
under-world of liquid, flowing translucent, gold and silver and amber
and saphire[sic], and bronze. - you floats [sic] in color, and each varying
tint is a new center of radiant light. You touch the surface with your
oar and thousands of glowing pearls burn upon the surface of the water,
fathoms below fish, like living flames float aimlessly. - Why were you
not t-h-e-r-e- with me there! I would have drawn you nearer and nearer
for the very joy of knowing that you saw and felt it all. And there we
would have gone to the pretty hotel over the sea, and taken lunch as I
did with the pleasant English ladies, and then w-e-r-e- to the top of
the cape on which once was the castle of Tiberius, where we would have
looked down hundreds of feet to the sea - beyond the rugged cliffs, and
the floating gulls - and have traced the far sweep of the Neopolitan bay,
b-a-y- from Ischia to Castleware, and Sorrento, with great Vesuvius and
its beacon of cloud, telling through the quiet, the story of the grand
scenes that have made this the most memorable theatre of the world. You
would have enjoyed too the little hotel into which I wandered to spend
the night. - Hotel Pagano, the favorite stopping place of the German and
French artists who come here to study and dream. The landlords sons wait
on you, and everything is cozy and homelike. Each artist leaves some memento
and the house if full of beautiful sketches, some exquisitely wrought
on the panels of the doors, some on the window frames and shutters, some
on the looking glasses. In my chamber a beautiful spurt of the air floated
toward me from one corner, in another corner two brilliant birds were
singing on a bending reed. Then there is a german caricaturist from Berlin
who spends his summers here who amuses himself in taking off in a huge
book his fellow artists and the strangers who pass a night or two among
them, all good portraits but with the wildest exaggeration. People who
come to Capri find it hard to get away, and some end by marrying a Capri
girl and ending their days among the vines and Mulberry orchards. I think
I never saw such a happy people. All are full of the sunlight that brightens
the air. - I came over to the Main land in a boat filled with old peasant
women. - in northern countries they would be sad and quiet - here a sober
old fellow with a pipe kept up a courteous fire of some dry humor - I
think about some chestnuts that one carried in her pocket - and the old
creatures held their handkerchiefs over their faces and burst with merriment
every five minutes during the whole voyage - I had a strong feeling that
it would be a good thing to go t-o- back and find one of their daughters,
and remain in Capri myself to the end of my days.

I found I might afford it too very nicely for on two thousand dollars
a year people here live with fx a family and three servants and all the
comforts the island permits, while for 6 francs $1.25 per day one may
have a nice room among the artists in the Hotel Pagano, with indefinite
comfort and content.

Sorrento too is charming, with its gardens hanging over the sea, and
its Orange bowers, and five clean hotels - (All for $2.25 per day) From
Sorrento I drove to Castlemare where I took the cars for Naples.

I had telegraphed to Rome to have all letters and papers sent me, and
the mail at length brought 20 packages of papers and about twenty letters.
Three from you dearest, that I laid aside and spent the whole evening
reading and reading - Mar. 3, Mar 9 and March. 19 - and then since coming
up to Rome, the letter of Apr. 15th has reached me, so I have here at
one moment six weeks and more of your life. How said I was to know you
were sick, how very glad to know you were well again, and that the beautiful
spring days that we enjoyed together when we first knew each other were
again around you to bring strength. I am daily becoming a more devout
sun worshiper and a Devotee of all the great luminary brings - flowers
and showers, and light & shades and singing birds and [ ], and I believe,
in the value of his ministrations for you. So now in May I feel that you
are well and happy and joyous - I need not tell you more that I am well.
I go everywhere and do everything and enjoy as much as is usual. I have
been going around the Galleries and palaces, and have looked out for [Carpacciones?]
as yet have not found him, but when I go to Venice, will look further
and carefully.

You will find with this a letter from Miss P. Stearns. She was more successful
than I was in her search for your father's grave in Jerusalem. Mr. Warner
told me of it and I went to the place after searching through the English
and Catholic Cemeteries, and saw i-t- the grave from the wall above, but
could not get into yard, except by jumping down a steep place out of which
I feared I could not climb. I found a boy at the English school to go
down, and he read the epitaphs as well as he could but not being a native
of England his scholarship was deficient and I did not feel certain I
had found the right place. Warner by this time had left Jerusalem and
I could not get more definite information. Miss Stearns description assures
me that I was right and I wish I could send you some flowers that I had
plucked on the spot but did not keep. Miss Stearns wrote you a little
note with the flowers, which is kind and gracious and characteristic like
herself. She feels that you have forgotten her, and was not going to send
this note, but would have waited until she saw you in America to give
it to you. Will you not write her a note and thank her too for her kindness
to me. But I must tell you about them (the Stearns.) I found them at Rome
in apartment with Miss Bartletts-. They expect to stay a couple of weeks
now and then go to Florence. We have been together to the Borghese palace
and yesterday we went to Frascate; a party consisting of Mrs. Tilton (wife
of the artist), Miss Bartlett, & the Misses Stearnes, but by rail
to the hills where you spent so much time when you lived in Rome. The
day was charming beyond description with a gentle soft breeze from the
West and scattered white clouds that dropped their shadows all over the
Campania and the edges of the sabine hills.

We lunched at the hotel and took carriages and donkeys for Villa Mondragone,
where Miss Priscilla and myself left the remainder of the party and rode
over to the site of Old Hisculum, where we read our guide books and traced
out the historic points on the Campania which lay under us like a map.
Then at 5.30 we took the train for Rome. Miss Priscilla is much the most
interesting of the two sisters, and has a manner that at once gives one
confidence in her. Nellie has indomitable energy, and in an excursion
is always full of spirit. They will soon go to the north of i-n-t-o- E-u-r-o-
Italy and then to Paris where they want to replenish their wardrobe and
this fall, they return home. They do not think that they have finished
Europe. Both want to go to Norway again.

How horrid you are about Mrs. Norton - just to think you made the same
remark about her communications that Miss Brewster did - Why did you not
look between the lines and see the most delicate and hidden of compliments
to the American gentlemen to whom all these grand developments were made.
I did not set Miss Brewster right however,. She still - if she has not
forgotten it takes the narrow worldly uncharitable view. I was at her
reception a short time ago - The grand personages were a princip. Lecturer,
and one of the Trollops - not Anthony - and a great-partizan of the Pope
- The great duty of the Hostess appeared to be to keep the Pope hater,
Trollop, and the Pappalini from meeting. - Miss Brewster has taken a warm
fancy to me and I have a standing invitation to drop in whenever I can
do so - She is a wonderful woman. - with the unflagging spirit of 20 years
and a memory extending over half a century. I have learned more of Philadelphians
from her than I should have learned t-o- of the same families had I staid
in the city itself for years. She dresses very prettily, and in excellent
taste - black silk & lace,a-n-d- tells her age to everybody. Knows
all the scandal and gossip. Keeps up a dozen warm friendships and as many
violent quarrels - patronizes, affiliates and snubs, in the most interesting
manner.

I have called on Miss Clark twice but until to-day she has been out of
town. I have a note from her just now - thanking me for some Egyptian
presses - papers squeezed into the reliefs in Egyptian tombs - which are
quite the fashion now among artists and of which I brought her at her
request, a number from [ ]. I hope I shall get twice to call again on
her, especially as I learn she has Parnassus and I want to see the book.
Miss Brewster told me that Emerson had put a number of your poems in -
(you remember I knew it before (I had told Warner) ) and Mis. B. added
- E. did not put in a single one of Storys, and he's dreadfully cut up
about it - he would have given his head to have been mentioned."

By the way - in thanking you for taking all the trouble to copy Warners
letter, I must tell you about Saxe Holm, - one day in our tent - Mrs.
Warner said - "Did Mrs Hunt ever discuss the Saxe Holme stories with
you." I was unprepared - but answered promptly and distinctly as
you would have me, and afterwards explained that I knew of them somewhat
by the Scribner stories of a [Tourmative?]. They did not pursue the subject,
as I feared they would. Warners are probably now in Venice, and I am planning
to go up to see them in a few days. Everybody is leaving Rome, just as
the weather is becoming so fine. Miss Brewster goes to the Tyrol probably
before long - Lancini will go to his villa in the Alban hills - and a
weeks ago the hotel people told me the season was over. Thank you many
times for your sonnets. I read them again and again sometimes for the
Poetry, sometimes that I may catch from their spirit the wonders of your
inner life - I want so much to talk with you, and kiss you again, and
tell you of everything, and know what you are thinking of - You must not
place so much stress on my signature - it is such a habit to write it
in full that I do it unconsciously - This time I will not however. Not
one of your scraps or papers have reached me. I think a newspaper package
w-i-t-h- filled as they would be would probably be opened by the Post
Office & retained - better send in envelopes. I wonder what you are
doing - and where will I find another letter soon at my bankers. Now I
must go and call on the Miss Stearns.

I have been to a number of receptions and have twice as many invitations,
as I can accept but I am tired of that sort of thing - our good hearts
friend is worth all these Storeys and Dahlgrens and Marshes. Good bye
dearest

Yours lovingly and trustfully always

Robert

P.S. The little milkweed seed came at Naples and when I had rec'd your
letter, I carried the bit of feeble life into the garden on the bay, and
placed it in the earth among a- b-i-g- the pansies - and beneath a dancing
fairie. Next year who will wonder at the strange American flowers and
leaves that may come up under this warm Italian sunshine